The Dreamtrap - 14. Chapter 14

- XIV -

On the other side of the mirror

Henry hadn’t said a single word while they were in the air. He stared out of the little round window, watching fat white clouds swim lazily around the plane, letting the blue sky to peek through random rips in the fluffy fabric. Julian was sitting in the back of the plane, Raven’s head in his lap, and he kept muttering something under his breath almost nonstop, running his fingers through Raven’s hair.

When they finally landed, it was 5:30 in the morning, and Henry shivered involuntarily in the chilly morning breeze when they were outside. There was a car waiting for them not too far from the plane, and Julian sharply gestured for the artist to get into the front seat while he carefully got Raven into the back, getting next to him. He told the driver the directions, and the man nodded without saying anything and started driving.

“Where are we going?” Henry asked finally, throwing a gloomy glance at the blond over his shoulder.

Julian looked at him briefly and returned his full, undivided attention to the unconscious brunet in his lap.

“Somewhere I will get some answers,” was all Salamander said in a tight voice.

Henry sighed and looked out of the window, wondering how he was supposed to get back home – they were almost half-way across the entire damn world, he had no money on him, and somehow, he doubted that Salamander would buy him a plane ticket after the entire situation was resolved. “He will probably just kill you after he doesn’t need you anymore,” his inner voice said indifferently, and Henry closed his eyes. Yeah, there was that possibility as well.

After twenty minutes or so, the car came to a smooth stop, and the driver looked into rearview mirror, meeting Julian’s eyes.

“We are here,” he said.

“I know,” the blond said darkly, looking at the house they stopped next to with narrowed eyes. He glanced at the driver. “I will call you when I need you,” he said, and the driver nodded.

“Yes, master Salamander,” he said, watching Julian getting out of the car with Raven in his arms.

Henry got out as well. He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched the car drive away. Then he sighed and followed the blond up the rocky steps leading to the house. He didn’t ask him any more questions; he figured that he’d know what this place was sooner or later.

Julian rang the bell, pushing the button several times, making the sound come out short and irritated. Henry wondered if whoever lived here was even awake yet, when he heard quick footsteps behind the closed door. The door swung open without any hesitation, as if whoever opened it couldn't care less who was about to get into their house. Henry stared at the tall, brown-haired man with very tired dark eyes. Those eyes widened somewhat when he saw Julian, whose expression was even darker than it was ten minutes ago. Then the man looked at Raven, and his eyes immediately narrowed. He briefly glanced at Henry, and looked at the unconscious brunet once again.

“Where is he?” Salamander asked in a low, ringing with quiet hatred voice. “I know that he is invading his dreams even now...!”

Henry had no idea what the blond was talking about, but it seemed that the brown-haired man understood him immediately.

“Where is he?” Julian repeated. “Speak the truth or I swear to God...”

“Oh, save it,” the man said in a tired, annoyed voice, and Henry blinked at that.

He looked at Julian, wondering what his reaction would be. The blond narrowed his eyes and tightly locked his jaw. The owner of the house sighed and stepped aside, making a quick, impatient gesture, which said, ‘Get in already!’

Julian slowly walked inside with puzzled Henry in tow, and walked to the big couch that sat next to the wall. He carefully laid Raven onto the couch and straightened up.

“Where...” he started saying when the other man interrupted him with another tired gesture. This one clearly said, ‘Follow me.’

Julian gritted his teeth and did just that, following the brown-haired man deeper into the house. Henry noted that shoulders of both of them were identically tight and rigid. He went after both men, and several minutes later, the owner of the house pushed open a door leading into the big bedroom. Julian stormed in there, clearly about to start spitting out barking questions, when he came closer to the bed and stopped dead in his tracks. The brown-haired man leaned onto the wall with one shoulder and folded his arms in his chest.

Henry carefully walked around the frozen blond and looked at the bed. Then he blinked rapidly. There was a man lying on the bed, and he seemed to be in a state of deep sleep. Henry frowned when he realized that the sleeping man’s expression was eerily similar to the one of Salamander’s mate. The man looked vaguely familiar.

Julian slowly shifted his blink-free gaze to the tall man next to the wall. The man nodded.

“He’s been this way since last Saturday morning,” he said, and the blond finally blinked. “Judging by your look,” the man continued slowly. “That was when it hit Raven, whatever it was...”

“Yes,” Julian said quietly and looked at the sleeping man once again. “Bloody hell...” he muttered. “They are trapped in there together...?”

Henry looked at the man more intently, and then frowned, finally recognizing him.

“That’s the guy in the painting...!” he said incredulously, and the man next to the wall blinked at that and straightened up.

“What painting?” he asked sharply.

“This painting,” Julian said dryly, pulling out the loosely rolled canvas from underneath his jacket.

The man quickly walked to the window and jerked the curtains apart, letting the sunlight burst into the bedroom. Julian put the painting onto the bed next to the sleeping man and unrolled it somewhat impatiently. The owner of the house towered over the canvas, a tight frown distorting his forehead. Then he frowned even deeper and leaned closer.

“Holy hell...” he muttered. “He is in the painting...!”

Julian blinked at that, remembering that he couldn’t see the man without a magnifying glass several hours ago, and leaned closer as well. Then he swore through his clenched teeth.

“Goddammit, it changed again...!” he muttered, and Henry tentatively stepped closer.

Salamander was right – the painting indeed changed again. Several hours ago, Henry found this mysterious man standing next to Raven in the upper left corner of the blasted painting, and he had to practically bury his nose in dry colors to be able to see him even with a magnifying glass. Now, however, both of them – Julian’s mate and this strange man – were standing next to the third or forth mirror from the bottom, and they were staring at something rather intently. Henry blinked when he realized that the red spots, which he assumed were eyes, relocated as well – now they were behind both men, and they seemed to be closer. Henry shivered involuntarily. He wouldn’t want something like whatever it was that had such demonic-looking eyes to get anywhere near him.

“What do you mean, it changed again?” the owner of the house demanded sharply, and Julian straightened up with a heavy sigh.

“Make some coffee, master Rayhe,” he said in the dark voice. “It is a rather long story.”

****

Approximately half-an-hour later, Julian finally finished explaining everything, and Rayhe, who never interrupted the blond for the entire time that he was talking, frowned very thoughtfully and tapped his fingers on the tabletop, his eyes fixed on his coffee mug.

“If they are still in there,” he said finally. “That means they missed the first exit.”

“Yes,” Julian agreed tightly.

“Or there is no exit,” Rayhe muttered, and Julian narrowed his eyes at that. “This is not a real labyrinth,” Rayhe said darkly. “It’s in the dreamland; how do we know if the same rules apply to it?”

“There was an exit,” Julian nodded. “It reflected in one of the mirrors. It’s not there now, but there was an exit,” he nodded again.

“Somewhat good news,” Rayhe muttered gloomily. “Bloody hell...!” He got up and pushed his chair aside. “How did it even happen? How in the world was he able to recognize Desmond?”

“I don’t know,” Julian answered tightly.

Rayhe paced around the kitchen for several minutes, and then he stopped and took a deep breath.

“All right,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t matter how it is possible... We have to get them out and the sooner the better.”

He looked at silent Henry, who sat on one of the chairs, his expression gloomy.

“You painted it,” Rayhe said, and Henry looked at him.

“I didn’t paint it this way,” he said dully. “I don’t know how it’s doing that; I don’t know how it keeps changing itself, but I did not paint it this way...!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rayhe shook his head impatiently. “You are the creator...! What is your name, by the way?” he squinted his eyes slightly.

Henry blinked, realizing that he never told this man his name, and Salamander didn’t bother introducing them, of course.

“Henry,” the artist muttered, and Rayhe slightly nodded.

“I am Gabriel,” he said. “Anyway, back to the painting... You are the creator, and even though it started changing on its own, you still should be able to control it.”

“Control it...?” Henry repeated with confusion, and Gabriel nodded again.

“Yes,” he walked closer to the table and pressed his palms into the tabletop. “If you add something else to it, the painting should accept it, because it’s your creation to begin with... You see where I am going?” he glanced at suddenly tensed up Julian.

“I think so,” the blond muttered. “He can create an exit...”

“Exactly...!” Gabriel nodded energetically. “And if they miss it again and it vanishes...” He shrugged. “He’ll just make another one.”

Julian threw a quick glance at the clock; it read 6:47.

“He will need the same paint as he used before,” he said with a small, thoughtful frown. “What time do the stores open?”

“Nine-thirty,” Gabriel sighed and went back to the coffeemaker.

“I am going to call my driver,” Julian said and reached for his phone.

Gabriel impatiently shook his head.

“I’ll take him,” he said and threw away the used coffee filter. “If we don’t find paint that he needs in the first store,” he started explaining when he noticed Salamander’s narrowed eyes. “I will take him to a different one; I know all of them around here,” he poured some water into the opening in the back of the coffeemaker. “While your driver would waste time, trying to figure out which store sells art supplies... Don’t worry,” he threw a quick glance at Henry. “I won’t let him to get away; he is too important.”

Julian nodded somewhat reluctantly and left his phone alone. Gabriel pushed the ‘Start’ button on the coffeemaker, thoughtfully looked at the gadget for a minute or so, sighed, and went back to his chair.

“When did this ability start to develop in him?” Julian asked after several minutes of silence.

“Three months ago,” Gabriel looked into his empty by now coffee mug. “A few weeks after you left,” he glanced at the blond. “This one turned out to be a hell of a lot harder to control than telepathy...”

Henry frowned at that. “Telepathy?” he thought warily. “Holy hell, that guy has more than one ability?” He bit his lip when suddenly, he felt a poisonous stab of jealousy. Some people have no abilities whatsoever like Henry himself, and some end up with more than they need. There is no such thing as fairness when it comes to this world, he thought gloomily.

“In fact,” Gabriel continued meanwhile. “He is still not quite sure how to control it. The problem with this particular ability is that it’s so bloody rare that there is hardly any useful information on it... Even Tess had no idea about how to avoid being sucked into some random dreams...”

“Tess DeCrusse?” Julian looked at him.

“Yes,” Gabriel sighed, and the blond nodded without asking anything else. “He tried simply ignoring the calls, tried staying put, but...” Rayhe shrugged. “It wouldn’t let him; it would drag him in anyway...”

“Would it happen every time he was asleep?” Salamander slightly pushed his empty mug away just so he could lean on the tabletop with his elbow.

“Not every time,” Gabriel looked at the coffeemaker, which stopped puffing. He got up and walked towards the counter. “However, it would happen quite often. The weird part...” He paused and refilled all three mugs, getting a small ‘Thank you’ nod from Henry. “...was that he would never feel tired after he woke up,” he continued after a minute and put the carafe back where it belonged. “Sometimes, he would be stuck in someone’s dream for the entire night, but when he woke up, he’d be fine...”

“Because his body was getting rest it needed,” Julian said, reaching for the creamer.

“I guess...” Gabriel agreed with a small shrug. “Then, a couple of weeks ago, he told me that he dreamt of Raven... Something about some cat,” he frowned.

“Yes,” Julian said darkly. “I know about that...”

“What was the deal with the cat, by the way?” Rayhe looked at the blond, who twisted his mouth into a hard line.

“Doesn’t matter,” he answered somewhat dryly. “Go on.”

Gabriel’s lips twitched with a shadow of annoyance, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

“He hadn’t dreamt of him until some time later,” he continued and reached for the pack of cigarettes. “In fact, he hadn’t dreamt of him until probably...”

“Thursday night,” Julian pulled out one cigarette out of the pack that Gabriel put on the table.

“Yes,” Gabriel sighed and drank more coffee. “Thursday night.”

They sat in silence, concentrating on their coffee mugs and cigarettes, and Gabriel’s mind was wondering. He started thinking about three months ago, when this obscure ability started rapidly developing itself in Desmond, making both of them grit their teeth in frustration quite often in the beginning.